


Present Tense

by Limestone_and_Hemlock



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Getting Back Together, Handprint (Roswell), Including child abuse, M/M, Malex, Oral Sex, References to past trauma, accidental injury, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limestone_and_Hemlock/pseuds/Limestone_and_Hemlock
Summary: Michael absolutely panics when Alex gets hurt. Events unfold from there.
Relationships: Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning:
> 
> Alex accidentally fires his gun and slightly hurts himself at the beginning of this fic.

In early November, Alex shot himself while cleaning his handgun. It wasn’t a bad wound; the bullet ploughed a three-inch furrow through the skin on the outside of his ribs, then buried itself in the drywall.

“ _Alex?_ ” Forrest said from the other room, sounding extremely worried. As he should, given that Alex apparently hadn’t mastered basic gun safety after three tours of duty.

“Please don’t freak out,” Alex said, lifting his hands in a calming gesture as Forrest appeared in the open door. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

“Take your shirt off,” Forrest said calmly. He’d been a battlefield medic, and didn’t panic at the sight of blood. It was one of the things Alex liked best about him. “I’ll get a towel, then I can drive you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Alex said, even though he was bleeding from his side.

Forrest folded his arms and lifted his eyebrows. “I know your first instinct is to grit your teeth and keep going, but you’re definitely gonna need stitches.”

Alex sighed, but took his shirt off, and didn’t argue when Forrest wrapped a clean towel around his torso and handed him another shirt to put on over it. Only after they were in the car driving toward Lovelace Regional did Forrest ask: “What happened?”

Alex’s lips tightened with embarrassment. He’d been hoping Forrest would forget to ask. “I was cleaning my gun,” he said. “I ejected the clip.”

“But forgot about the one in the chamber?” Forrest prompted, lips twisting like he was suppressing a small smile.

“It’s not funny,” Alex said, sullen.

“It’s not,” Forrest agreed. “Sorry. But it happens to the best of us.”

“ _Does_ it, though?” Alex asked, irritable from the pain in his side.

“You ever wonder how I got this?” Forrest said, pointing to a cute scar on his neck. “Boot camp. Misfired a gun on the second day of Basic Combat Training.”

“Really?” Alex asked. The story distracted him from the injury, which was probably the point.

“Yup. I was surprised they didn’t kick me out then and there. But it’s like they say: There’s two kinds of gun owners. The ones whose guns have gone off accidentally, and…”

“The ones whose guns _will_ go off accidentally,” Alex finished. “I know.” He settled back in the seat, somewhat mollified. God, he really liked Forrest. He especially liked that Forrest didn’t freak out over every mistake, because unlike Alex, he’d grown up with a Dad who didn’t backhand him for every minor fuck-up.

At the hospital, Kyle cleaned, stitched and dressed Alex's wound while making small talk with Forrest. Kyle liked Forrest. Hell, everyone liked Forrest. When Kyle was done with the stitches and the dressing, he put Alex on an IV of pain meds. “We’ll discharge you in a couple hours,” Kyle said as Alex lay back in the hospital bed. “Just try to get some rest before then.”

They were in one of those four-bed hospital rooms, but the others were empty, and Kyle closed the curtain on his way out to give Alex and Forrest at least a little privacy.

“You okay, handsome?” Forrest asked, brushing Alex’s cheek with his knuckles.

“Are you kidding?” Alex said with a drowsy smile. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in years. You should go home,” he added. “You heard Kyle. It’s gonna be a few hours before he discharges me.”

“And I’m gonna be here when he does,” Forrest said, settling into the chair next to Alex’s bed.

Alex woke up to the sound of the curtain around his bed whooshing open. He still had the IV in his arm, making everything around him feel heavy and muted. So he didn’t open his eyes right away, even as he heard Michael’s voice, higher than usual and crackling with panic, asking “ _What the hell happened?_ ”

Alex opened his eyes a crack, in time to see Forrest stand, stopping Michael before he could shake Alex awake. “Whoa there, cowboy,” Forrest said. “He’s just resting.”

“Resting?” Incredulity warred with worry on Michael’s face as Alex watched through his eyelashes. “I got a text from Liz saying that Alex was in the hospital because he shot himself!”

“Accidentally,” Forrest said. “He was cleaning his gun and he grazed himself. I think your friend made it sound worse than it is.”

“Worse than it is?” Michael’s voice had gone low and quiet. “He’s laid up in a damn hospital bed. And where the hell were you when this happened?” Michael’s hands tightened into fists as he spoke.

“I was in the other room,” Forrest said, calm but not budging. “This still would’ve happened even if I’d been sitting right next to him. And if you’re thinking of throwing a punch right now, I’d recommend against it. You might be good in a bar fight, but I’ve disarmed men bigger than you who were carrying assault rifles at the time.”

Well shit. If Forrest and Michael actually came to blows, Alex was gonna have to get out of bed and do something about it. And he was still high on goofballs, so he’d probly fall on his face if he tried.

But Michael’s fingers relaxed, and he exhaled hard through his nose. “I’m not gonna punch you,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not a fucking sociopath.”

“I haven’t heard much about you, to be honest,” Forrest said. That was a lie. Alex hadn’t told Forrest about his relationship (or whatever it had been) with Michael, but he knew he’d let Michael slip into casual conversation more than he probably should have.

“Hm,” Michael said. “Alex is gonna be okay?”

“He is.”

“Then I should probly go.”

“You want me to tell Alex you came by?” Forrest asked, voice carefully neutral.

“No,” Michael said with brittle certainty. “Just take care of him when he wakes up.”

Michael closed the curtain behind him. Alex went back to sleep not long after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Forrest say goodbye.

Alex’s stitches came out two weeks later. Forrest came with him and drove him home after. He was uncharacteristically quiet and tense the entire ride home. Alex jumped out of the car, stretching his legs and back. “You wanna come in?”

Forrest nodded, looking uncertain. Alex waited until they were seated in the living room to ask, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Forrest chewed his lip. “I got a job offer,” he said.

“That’s good, right?” Alex said, nonplussed.

“In El Paso.”

“Oh.” Alex’s chest deflated. “You’re leaving.”

“Alex, I would’ve stayed. Hell, I’ll still stay, if…”

Alex touched his arm. “If what?”

Forrest smiled sadly. “If you can tell me that you’re not in love with Michael Guerin.”

Alex mirrored Forrest’s wistful smile. 

“You know, if you’d asked me to say anything but that, I would have.” He felt a cool wash of relief as he said it. He’d never admitted to another soul, even tacitly, how he really felt about Michael.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Forrest said. “Just like I told you when you sang that song about him.”

“You knew?” Alex said, feeling ashamed. He’d never wanted Forrest to feel like he was playing second fiddle to anyone else.

“I knew you were lying when you said it was a long time ago,” Forrest said. “I always figured there was someone else, even if I was too smitten to bring it up. I just didn’t know who it was until two weeks ago in the hospital. Thank you for preserving my dignity by pretending to be asleep, incidentally.”

“You knew I was awake,” Alex said. “Of course you did.”

“I retained a few military recon instincts,” Forrest said. “I got the job offer that same day, I just wanted to wait until you were healed to tell you.”

“Well,” Alex said. “For what it’s worth, Forrest Long, I’ll always be grateful that we met when we did.”

Forrest smiled then, a genuine, sunny smile. “Me too.”

Forrest spent the night and packed all the shit he’d left at Alex’s house the next day. (Apparently everything else was already in his car, ready to go.) Everything fit into one box, with room to spare. It gave Alex a pang to see how easily Forrest lifted out of his life.

“Do you need to go right now?” He asked, voice wobbly.

“I have time for a drink,” Forrest said. “But just one, because I’ve got a four-hour drive ahead of me.”

Which is how they ended up at Planet 7 at 2:30, half an hour after it opened for the day. Alex drank a beer, Forrest drank seltzer with lime, because he was a borderline-teetotaler who had to drive. Forrest finished fast, but Alex drank slow, knowing that Forrest would be gone as soon as he finished.

Forrest, apparently wise to what Alex was doing, nudged Alex’s knee with his and said, “Finish your drink, soldier.”

Reluctantly, Alex downed the last of his drink, and left enough money for the bill and the tip under the foot of his glass. He squinted in the bright sunlight as they emerged from the bar; you always expect it to be dark when you come out of a bar, even in the middle of the afternoon.

“So,” Forrest said when they got to his parking space, keys in hand.

“Will you text me when you get there?” Alex asked. “Just to let me know you got in okay.”

“Of course,” Forrest said. It gave Alex a pang knowing that it would probly be the last time he ever heard from Forrest. He knew better than to try to be friends with an ex.

So he didn’t make any promises to keep in touch or anything like that. Just said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“At the hospital, when you told Michael you hadn’t heard much about him…”

Forrest grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t resist needling the guy a little. Can you blame me?”

As a response, Alex stepped off the curb and hugged Forrest fiercely. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he whispered.

Forrest hugged him back, chin resting on his shoulder. After a few seconds, his arms loosened and he said, “You need to let me go now, Alex.”

Reluctantly, Alex let his arms slip loose, and stepped back onto the curb. Forrest’s eyes were wet as he climbed into the car and waved through the windshield before reversing out of his parking space. Alex watched him roll down the street, flip on the turn signal, and disappear from view.

He felt lighter, somehow. Not empty. More like his chest had been filled with helium, because of everything he’d learned from Forrest: Happiness. Pride. True freedom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex finally have that talk they've been avoiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, the song on the jukebox is a cover of "Forever Young" by UNDRESSD. (Time stamp 2:09 when they kiss.)

Alex walked around town for almost two hours, until his legs were sore. After that, he got coffee and sat in the gazebo, even though he was old enough that drinking caffeine in the afternoon inevitably kept him up until the wee hours.

He thought about calling Maria. He thought about calling Liz. He thought about going to the Crashdown. He thought about going home. In the end, he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he went back to Planet 7, planted himself on a barstool, and ordered another drink. It was 4 PM, and hardly anyone else was there.

He finished his beer and was halfway through a second when the door flapped open and shut like a saloon door in a spaghetti western. The jukebox clicked over to a sweet, achey cover of _Forever Young_. “This seat taken?” Said a sweet, rough, warm voice behind his shoulder. Michael.

Alex glanced up at him and shook his head. His heart sped up when Michael sat down, like it always did when Michael was close. Truth be told, he’d expected a more dramatic autonomic response the first time he saw Michael after yesterday’s revelation.

Except it wasn’t really a realization, was it? If he was perfectly, perfectly, perfectly honest, he’d known he loved Michael since the first time they kissed. Before that, even.

“You drink here?” Alex asked.

“Not usually,” Michael said.

“So you came to the only gay bar in town for the first time in your life at 4 PM on a Thursday?” Alex asked.

“I was looking for you,” Michael said. “Izzy told me that you drink here sometimes.”

“I do.”

“That because of Forrest?”

“Yup.” It was true; he’d never been here without Forrest. Until today.

Michael ordered two tequila shots, swallowed one, and then asked, “So where is Forrest anyway?”

Alex glanced at his watch then said, “Texas, probably.” He hoped Michael wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions. He wasn’t ready to talk about his breakup with anyone, especially not the man who’d inadvertently caused it.

“Look,” Michael said. “I came here to tell you what I should have told you twelve years ago and every damn day since then. I love you. Present tense. And I thought you deserved to know.” He swallowed his second shot of tequila, and banged the glass back onto the bar like he was in a drinking contest. “And now you know.”

He stood, pulled a sweaty wad of singles out of his pocket to pay for his liquor, and turned away. And everything inside Alex coalesced around one thought: _No. I’m not watching you walk away again._

So he grabbed Michael’s hand to stop him. Stood up and brushed the curls off his forehead. And kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him again, courageous and joyful, in a place where they didn’t have to hide. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s broad shoulders and kissed him until the song ended.

“Just in case it wasn’t clear,” Alex said, forehead pressed to Michael’s after they broke apart, “I love you too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Handprint That Was Promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: References to past trauma, including child abuse.
> 
> The soundtrack for this chapter was "Breathe" by Of Verona.

They drove into the desert to watch the sun set. Just like they used to. As the air cooled and the nighttime desert sounds picked up around them, Michael rolled his head to the side to look at Alex. “You wanna get some dinner, or…?”

Alex rolled on top of Michael and pinned his wrists above his head. Playful, but not completely. Michael took his weight willingly, muscles loosening, thighs spreading to accommodate Alex between them. When Michael surged upward to kiss him, Alex held his mouth out of reach, just barely, keeping a firm grip on Michael’s wrists. “Take me home, cowboy,” he murmured against Michael’s lips.

They drove to Alex’s house. Michael’s airstream was closer, but Alex had a bed that was actually big enough for the two of them. Michael hesitated on the threshold when Alex opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, hanging up his jacket.

Michael shook his head and stepped inside. “Just thinking about the last time I was here.”

“You’ve never been here,” Alex said. Over the last twelve years, they’d had sex in the shed, in the truck, in the airstream, even against the back wall of the Pony one night when they were twenty-five. But never here.

“I have,” Michael said. “When you were kidnapped, and I was looking for you.” He said it casually, unlacing his boots and leaving them in a pile next to the door. Alex wondered if remembering those few days caused the same flood of emotions for Michael as it did for him.

Alex left his shoes in the hallway and padded into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. Michael followed him and shut the door behind them with a quiet click.

They stood a few feet apart, neither of them making a move. This was usually about the time when Alex would say, _Come here right now. Get on your knees._ He’d been indecisive about Michael for a decade, but he’d always known exactly what he wanted in bed. And Michael had always been so goddamn eager to give it to him.

And now, suddenly, just when he needed that surety, it eluded him. Michael hit the light switch as Alex stood there, plunging them into darkness.

“Don’t,” Alex said, without turning around.

Michael made a questioning noise.

“Turn the light back on,” Alex said. “I want to see you.”

The overhead light came back on. Michael stepped close, and hugged Alex from behind. 

“What else do you want?” Michael asked, rough chin rasping against Alex’s neck as he spoke. Every muscle in Alex’s body relaxed as he melted against Michael’s body. Michael stayed there, steady as an oak tree, letting Alex feel his muscular legs, his hard cock, the warmth of his bare chest against Alex’s back. He must have taken his shirt off while Alex was standing here, dithering.

Alex turned, still in the circle of Michael’s embrace. “Just kiss me,” he said, holding Michael’s face in his hands.

Michael closed the last inch between them and kissed him, long and hard, until Alex was light-headed and weak in the knees, with most of his weight resting on Michael’s chest. If he was being honest, he was damn close to swooning in Michael’s arms.

He was grateful when Michael walked them two steps back and let Alex fall into bed. He had a brief, vivid memory of the week he came back to Roswell for good; of Michael throwing him across the bed in the airstream, then yanking his clothes off like they were on fire.

“Let me do that,” Michael said as Alex reached for the hem of his own shirt.

Alex let go of his shirt and propped himself up on his elbows. Michael stripped out of his jeans and climbed onto the bed, the light turning his skin to gold.

“You’re beautiful,” Alex said, overwhelmed.

“Sweet talker,” Michael said with less snark and more tenderness than he’d probably intended. He undressed Alex slowly, with the same reverent look in his eyes he’d had that day in the shed. That was what Alex remembered most about that day, in spite of everything; the tender, vulnerable look in Michael’s eye when Alex pushed inside him, unsure what he was doing and overcome with nerves and excitement.

Soon enough they were naked and kneeling on the bedspread, facing each other. “Tell me what you want, Guerin,” Alex whispered against Michael’s mouth. He felt Michael smile at the familiarity of that line. (Alex usually said it as he pulled a handful of Michael’s hair and bit his neck hard enough to bruise: _Tell me what you want so I can do it until you cry._ )

Michael slid his hands over the hard plane of Alex’s chest. “Everything,” he said. “I want everything. With you.”

“We don’t have to leave this bed until we’ve thoroughly exhausted the possibilities,” Alex promised. “But what do you want _now_?”

“Just…” Michael said, and lay his head on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael. He would stay here and hold Michael all night if he wanted. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Michael’s hair, holding their bodies flush against one another.

When Alex opened his eyes, his arms went slack with surprise. “You’re glowing,” he said to Michael.

Michael lifted his head off Alex’s shoulder. “Huh,” he said, looking at his hand, which was glowing the way Max’s sometimes did.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Alex said.

“Me neither.”

“Does it work the same way it does for Max?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, fanning out his incandescent fingers. “Wanna find out?”

Alex couldn’t do anything but nod helplessly as he looked into Michael’s eyes. Michael pressed his hand to Alex’s chest, right where his heart was thumping insistently against his ribs. And Alex saw…

Everything. Michael’s whole life, through Michael’s eyes, unscrolling endlessly in front of him. 

_Seven-year-old Izzy and Max, walking away with their parents. The tile floor of the bathroom where Michael curled up between the toilet and the sink when he was ten, trying not to hear the sounds of a drunken fight two rooms away. The highway into Roswell when Michael first returned at thirteen. The night a man grabbed Izzy, and Michael buried his body in the sand. Flames, blinding bright, the night they staged Rosa’s car accident._

_And Alex._

_And Alex._

_And Alex._

_Alex smiling at Michael when Michael turned around and glanced at him in English class when they were 16. Alex kissing him in the truck under the glaring desert sun. Alex lying in his bed last year, half-asleep and serene in the early morning light. Alex walking away from him._

Alex opened his eyes and pitched forward as Michael pulled his hand away, falling against his chest, burying his face in Michael’s neck.

“I love you,” Alex gasped. “God, I love you so much.”

And he kept whispering it as Michael put him on his back and took him into his mouth.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

The next morning, Alex stood naked in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom while Michael took a shower. Alex knew that there were few things Michael loved more than a long, hot shower. Probly because he didn’t have running water in the airstream. 

Alex was still in front of the mirror, examining the shifting, quicksilver colors over his heart when the hiss of the shower stopped. Michael emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, water still dripping from his curls.

“Still looking at the handprint?” Michael asked, coming up behind Alex so they were both framed in the mirror. He had a towel wrapped low and loose around his hips, but it slipped off entirely as he put his arms around Alex’s waist from behind.

“Are you kidding?” Alex asked, drawing Michael’s arms tighter around him. “Of course I am. It looks like I’ve got an entire galaxy trapped in my skin. Feels like it, too.”

Michael frowned. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Alex said, rubbing his morning stubble against Michael’s freshly-shaven chin. “It feels…warm. Life-sustaining.”

Michael kissed the back of Alex’s shoulder, and pushed his nose against the tender warmth of Alex’s neck. “It looks good on you.”


End file.
